Pink Nail Polish & a 44 Slug
by Lady of chaos and tragedy
Summary: 21 year old assassin JayJ Clarke has a past that's out to get her killed.. and a future with Robert Mercer that's even scarier. Bobby/OC. Murder, Mayhem, Violence & an R rating. Black Nail Polish & a 9 Mil Round Sequel.
1. Chapter 1

Pink Nail Polish & a .44 Slug

If there was one thing JayJ couldn't stand, it was a screaming brat. She flicked another glance over at the booth where the child sat, kicking in his high chair and throwing bits of toast and egg all over the floor. She rolled her eyes at the mother of the child, who was studiously ignoring the tantrum and eating her own breakfast. People who couldn't be bothered to discipline their child, had really ought to keep the little rugrats home. The waitresses, who would have the privelege of cleaning up after the little monster, obviously agreed with JayJ. She observed two of them quietly in the back corner, casting evil looks at the oblivious mother while they whispered. One of them felt JayJ's eyes on her with that sixth sense that waitresses develop, and made eye contact. Quickly paste-ing on a professional smile, she brushed back her chocolate brown hair and hurried over with a fresh pot of coffee.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" She asked, brisk and polite as she refilled JayJ's cup. JayJ looked up with bright blue eyes from under the hood of her purple plaid hoodie and smiled in thanks, but shook her head no, and the waitress bustled off to find other work. JayJ added cream and sugar to her drink, stirring slowly and then cupping it between her two hands. She slid another look around Lil Donna's Homestyle Cafe, taking in more information than the average person would in a casual glance. There were eight patrons in the restaurant, two waitresses and the kitchen staff. The person she was waiting for had yet to show.

JayJ sighed, and slouched back in her corner booth. She crossed her ankles, setting one black-and-white sneaker over the other, and dug around in her jeans for her phone. As JayJ got older, she found herself dressing younger. Especially when she went out on business. After all. Who expects the cute blonde kid with pink nails and a purple hoodie to be the hired assassin that's going to pull a gun and paint the wall with your brain matter? Exactly. With age, comes wisdom. Although 21 was still plenty young enough to play the part. To look at her, you'd never know that JayJ had had three years experience on the job. That she'd pulled the trigger that had killed the most powerful gangster in Detroit. That she had a huge scar on her left shoulder, and that when it rained the phantom pain reminded her of the bullet she'd taken to save her foster brother, and at night she still had nightmares of the cop who'd kidnapped her from the hospital shortly after.

You also wouldn't know from looking at her, that she'd been in a three-year commited relationship with Robert Mercer, the Michigan Mauler, a man some fifteen years her senior. Although, JayJ reflected dryly as she checked her phone, she did wonder sometimes if a better commitment on her part might not have been made to the psych ward at Detroit General. God, she loved him. But he drove her absolutely crazy, too.

It had taken weeks to teach Bobby the subtle art of texting, and train him to use it. Even still, his patience with it was thin and short lived, and he only did it when she refused to answer his calls, like now.

_Come home._ The message on her phone said. And even as she read it another popped up.

_NOW. _ It demanded, and JayJ knew from his special effort to use the capitalization that her violent-tempered boyfriend was at the end of his very short fuse. She sighed and dithered over the screen, pondering what response to write. As a general rule, Bobby treated her wonderfully. When a guy risks his life to save your hide, it puts a lot of points in the good column. He was rough and uncouth, and he did have a way of pushing all her buttons at once, but she pushed his right back. However, their murdered foster mother, Eve Mercer, had taught all of her boys how to treat a lady, and for the most part Bobby was respectful of her independance. Occasionally, he would even sweep her off guard with moments of amazing gentility and tenderness.

This, was not one of those moments. JayJ pursed her lips in frustration, and tapped her baby pink nail on the table. She couldn't really blame him of course. Bobby wanted her out of the game, away from the danger and the killing. And after that incident three years ago, when he'd thought she was dead, well, JayJ truly understood his reluctance to let her go back to work. But two and a half years was too long. She was healed, healthy, and for the last six months had been working her way back into the network; sneaking off for odd jobs when she could, slowly rebuilding her reputation.

Bobby didnt, couldn't understand that she needed it, the adrenaline, the danger, the power. He couldn't see that it was a part of her, too, that lust for thrill and excitement. JayJ also only accepted contracts on the bad guys. After a truly fucked up childhood, it gave her a sense of purpose and strength to be able to balance out the scales of good and evil, at least a little. She wasn't ready to give that up.

And that's why, this pale April morning, she sat dithering over her phone in a back corner booth at a family-friendly diner, waiting for contact with a client; namely, some dude who wanted some other dude dead. Quickly, quietly, expensively, and professionally. And JayJ was all of the above. She heard the wailing child's sobs begin to turn into a loud hiccuping.

Unable to formulate a witty and appeasing response to Bobby's texts, JayJ turned off her phone and moved to slide it back in her skinny-jean pocket; a task easier thought than accomplished. She lifted her butt off the seat a little to improve the wiggle room, and stopped when a large shadow fell over the table.

Feeling a bit sheepish being caught mid-squirm, JayJ took a moment to cool the blush from her cheeks before looking up; only to feel all the blood drain from her face as she stared into the warm brown eyes of a ghost.

A handsome, charming ghost with a heart-stopping smile. But a ghost nontheless. A phantom from her past, a resurrection of distant memories and old fears.

The boy she thought she'd killed.


	2. Chapter 2

Six Years Ago

_Running, running. Footsteps pounding, heart hammering. Run. Run. Escape. Jayden ran flat out across the empty field, her white nightgown catching and ripping on dogburrs and branches as she tore through the meadow like a frantic ghost. Her bare feet found sharp rocks and rough sticks on the uneven ground, but she didn't pause at all. Her bruises and muscles complained, but were banished next to her fear. Directly behind her, other footsteps sounded. Heavier, louder, booted footsteps. Boy's footsteps. Jordan. Jordan, her saviour. She owed him her life. She should thank him. She _would_ thank him, of course, over and over. Forever. But first, first to escape! RUN!_

_Further behind them both echoed even louder, even heavier footsteps, hounding, pounding in hot pursuit. Men with flashlights. Men with guns. Men with dogs. Jayden would not risk a look behind, but the sound of the shouts and the barks, the beams of the lights through the trees filled her with terror, and spurred her on faster. She was a length ahead of Jordan now, as they cleared the meadow and reached the trees. Just a little farther, a little farther. Run. Escape._

_She burst through the trees with a wave of relief as she glimpsed the wall. There. Freedom is there, is close. Within sight, within reach, within taste. Just a little farther now. Run._

* * *

And Now

* * *

"Hello, Jayden." The ghost said, with a half of a smile on his face and a sparkle in his honey brown eyes. "May I sit down?"

He motioned to the seat opposite her in the booth, and the movement and the sound of his smooth, familiar voice jolted JayJ back into her senses. She nodded quickly and fidgeted in her seat, her eyes raking suspiciously around the diner while he sat down across from her. Nobody else had entered with him, and if the other patrons had noticed the miraculous sudden ressurection of a dead man during their Sunday brunch, they certainly weren't letting on.

The man cleared his throat to get her attention, and JayJ reluctantly dragged her eyes back to his face. 'Man' was a loose term for him, although he was noticeably older than when she had last seen him... and remarkably more alive...

He was her age, and looked it. A markedly handsome boy with short bronze hair and Caramilk eyes, obviously just out of his teens. But he carried himself with the quiet, confident air of maturity. Most people on the recieving end tended to squirm under JayJ's scrutiny, but he simply raised an eyebrow, and the charming half-smile returned to his face.

"I guess this is quite a surprise," he said, his tone light. JayJ's expression told him how far short that statement fell, and he became more serious. "I'm sorry if I startled you."

"If you came here to kill me, Jordan, you picked the wrong meeting place."

Her words came out quick and clipped, as a cold observation. Punctuated by the soft click of the hammer on her Magnum revolver, currently aimed at his family jewels underneath the cover of the table. She watched as his face crinkled in confusion at her statement, then paled in fear as he recognized the threat. She leaned forward the slightest bit, her eyes hardening as she continued.

"I thought I killed you, and I left you for dead. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted revenge, Jordan. But I've worked hard and carved a life out for myself here, I've got people who care whether or not I come home tonight, and I won't let that go without a fight."

The color began to come back to Jordan's cheeks, but he moved slowly, placing his hands palms-down on the table between them.

"Obviously I'm still alive, Jaybird." He met her gaze with his eyes and held it, and spoke softly and calmly. "I know you left me for dead. But I never blamed you. We were both young kids, and it was an accident. You had bigger concerns. Now." He leaned in just marginally closer. "I came here to offer _you_ revenge."

JayJ faltered for just a moment, but she blinked and he knew he had her. He leaned in even more, and dropped his voice an octave lower.

"I want you to help me kill your husband."

* * *

**_Horridly short, my dears, I know. But I promise I will continue if I get enough interest in the story. I always update after I get ten reviews! what do you think? worth another chapter?_**


	3. Chapter 3

It was full-on dark when JayJ pulled up outside the old Mercer house. After the disconcerting meeting with Jordan that morning, she'd found reasons to put off coming home all day. For a moment she sat and looked at it, the house, freshly painted and repaired, with new windows and siding after the gunfight three years ago that had left the poor thing riddled with buckshot and bullet holes. Inside, one lone light was on in the living room. Sofie was probably upstairs, asleep. Angel had been called back to base, and Jack was on tour with his band.

It honestly wasn't the fear of facing Bobby's temper that had kept her away all day. Sure, he was most likely lurking just inside the door, waiting to pounce; but that was nothing new. The two of them spent half their time at each other's throats, and the other half ripping each other's clothes off. JayJ had always kind of figured that, eventually, they'd settle down into a quieter pattern, but admitted to enjoying the fire and passion of their fight-and-make-up cycle.

Now, however, she wasn't in the mood. The life that she had built for herself in Michigan, the life with Sofie and the Mercers and Bobby, had no room for her past. Jordan, by showing up the way he did, had thrown her right back into the mindset of that fifteen year old girl, terrifyed and filled with the overwhelming urge to run.

And that simply would not do. With a deep breath to steel her resolve, JayJ walked around to the trunk of her prized '02 Mustang convertible and hefted out two paper bags of groceries. She used her chin and elbow to shut the red lid of the trunk, and began to navigate the overgrown lawn to the path that led to the front door.

She saw the faint glow of a reading lamp emanating from the living room as she kicked off her shoes in the entry way. She lifted the grocery bags high and tried hard not to notice Bobby's form in the armchair by the lamp, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin on his clasped hands, his eyes glittering darkly up at her from underneath bangs of tousled black hair. Without a word, JayJ scuttled past the living room into the kitchen and set the bags on the counter, cursing herself for a slimy coward. Bobby's soft footsteps followed her into the kitchen, and her shoulders slumped with a feeling of dread.

"Hey," he said, softly. "What's wrong?"

The words and tone were so opposite from what she'd been expecting, that she had to fight the sudden urge to turn around and throw herself in his arms, bawl hysterically and tell him the whole sad, awful story.

But again, that behaviour would not do, and she was immediately angry with herself for even feeling the desire. The desire to be weak. Her back straightened and her shoulders tensed, and she began to rip the groceries out of the bag and put them away, refusing to turn and look at him.

"Nothing." She said, her voice biting and defensive. She heard his soft intake of breath, and had to fight a flinch at the hurt look she knew he would have on his face if she turned around. Guilt flooded her, but she stood her ground, moving to open the refridgerator door and put the milk away.

Bobby let out his breath slowly, and took another approach.

"Where were you today?" he asked, still quiet, but not as soft. JayJ closed the door of the fridge and bent to open the cabinet under the sink, a new bottle of dishsoap in her hand. She contemplated the question for a moment, and decided to answer honestly.

"I had a meeting with a client." She said, flatly. She heard the rustle of fabric as Bobby crossed his muscular arms over his chest. "An old friend."

"You're planning a hit?" He asked, an edge creeping into his tone. JayJ closed the cabinet under the sink and moved to the one above the coffeemaker, replacing the empty box of filters.

"Yes." She said, finally turning to face him. She leaned her hip against the counter and folded her arms over her chest, mirroring his defensive pose. She raised her eyes to his in a challenge. Bobby met it levelly, and raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you were going to quit." He said, making it a statement, not a question.

"No." She said.

"No?"

"No."

He paused, giving her a look that said he was clearly waiting for her to elaborate. She didn't. A muscle in his jaw flexed.

"I don't want you to do it." He said, firmly now. JayJ felt her hackles rise.

"Perhaps I don't care what you want." She said, mimicking his tone. A spark of challenge lit his eyes, something like _Oh, really?_. His lips parted slightly, but before he could speak, JayJ steamrolled over him. "Perhaps I'm tired of always having to think about you in every little decision I make, Bobby. Maybe I'm not ready to sign my life away and be a little housewife in the suburbs."

Confusion rippled across Bobby's face, a flash of pain quickly hidden by consternation. Somewhere inside of JayJ a tiny voice screamed. _No, what are you doing? Pushing him away, you idiot, that's what. STOP! _

But she couldn't.

"I'm sorry." She said. She dropped her eyes and reached for her keys across the counter, her voice suddenly shaky. "I'm taking this job. I have some shit I have to deal with. I can't do this, with you... not until it's finished."

She swallowed the red-hot lump in her throat and blinked back tears, sprinting for the front door. She shoved her feet into her sneakers and ripped open the door, refusing to let herself look back to where he stood in the doorway.

* * *

Six years ago.. again. But slightly earlier than last time.

_"Come with me, Jaybird," Jordan said, "Don't go with them tomorrow. Come with me, we can get out, we can leave and go wherever we want. We can be together."_

_JayJ looked from her lap, where Jordan held her hands clasped tightly in his own, up to his hopeful sixteen-year-old face. For a moment, his excitement infected her, and whisked her away in dreams of freedom and adventure. The temptation to be rebellious, to experience the world and taste the forbidden fruit was so intoxicating, so seductive._

_But fear stopped her. Fear of the unknown, of all the things she'd been taught to fear her entire life. The world was a frightening, evil place. How would a fifteen year old girl and a sixteen year old boy survive in it, alone? No. Here was their home. Here was safe. _

_"I can't, Jordan," she said, and pushed his hands away. "I can't."_

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

_Six years ago, continued._

* * *

They came for Jayden the next day, at noon. Two of the Brethren, in a huge white Cadillac SUV with chrome embellishments. Jayden gaped, and tried not to think of money it took to fuel that thing, and how one tank would have fed her struggling family for a month. That was not her place to question.

One of the brethren, in a black suit and tie, got out of the passenger seat and opened the back door for Jayden. Mother Lorraine made a show of smoothing Jayden's new pastel pink dress and kissing her tenderly on the forehead, before nudging her towards the SUV. It was a charade for the benefit of the Brethren, of course. Jayden knew that Mother Lorraine was thrilled to be rid of her, thrilled that she had been chosen to marry Brother Lyle. It was an honor, Jayden reminded herself. An honor not only for her, but for the whole family.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she walked to the gigantic car. To steady them, she wrapped them tightly around her father's white leather Book of Mormon. If her father were alive, he would be so proud.

She climbed in slowly, feeling the cool tan leather of the seat through the thin broadcloth of her dress. There was a soft _thwuck_ as the door was shut behind her. The air conditioned interior of the SUV was near-heaven compared to the July heat outside. But nervousness made Jayden's palms clammy. The engine purred as the SUV began to move, and Jayden snapped her head up to look out the dark-tinted window. She watched as Mother Lorraine waved brightly one last time, then turned and went back inside the house.

That was her last view of her home, as the SUV hauled her south. Fear settled in Jayden's stomach. She looked up at the back of the Brethrens' heads. They did not turn to look at her, or say a word. They seemed content to pretend she did not exist.

With a shaky intake of breath, she closed her eyes. And thought of Jordan's comforting smile.

* * *

And now... again. But later.

* * *

JayJ turned her car onto the freeway, and headed west. She brushed a tear from her cheek as she drove, and tried to put Bobby out of her head. That had been hell. And, quite possibly the stupidest thing she had ever done. But it would do no good to dwell on it now. After this was over, if it turned out well, she _would_ come back. She would do whatever she could to try and earn his forgiveness. She promised herself that much. But now it was time to put her head in the game. She sniffled, and checked her rearview mirror.

There's a very legitimate reason why professional hitmen, (or women), never take jobs with personal connections. Its the same reason that doctors don't operate on friends and family and what-have-you. In personal situations, emotions run very high. And unless you're a complete psychopath, your emotions can make you make mistakes. Lapses in judgement, prejudiced oversight, the list goes on. Also, in a situation where your personal connection to the victim gives you motive, you are going to shoot right to the top of the cops' suspect list.

So for these and many other valid reasons, JayJ should never have accepted Jordan's hit. But there was one very good reason why she would. And it outweighed all of those other considerations.

Revenge.

Revenge is a dish best served cold, they say. And the last six years had given it a long time to fester and rot in JayJ's mental pantry of Just Desserts. Now, she decided, it was about time to shove it down her enemy's choking throat.

JayJ saw her exit coming up, and pulled into the far right lane. It took her down into the warehouse district. Checking her rearview mirror often for a tail, JayJ navigated the area carefully, pulling up finally into a run-down storage facility. The flickering neon sign proudly proclaimed 'Big Joey's Storage', with less than half the letters lit up.

Pulling the Magnum revolver from the waistband of her jeans, JayJ checked the chamber before she got out of the car. Slipping the gun back in place subtly, she got out of the convertible and jogged quietly across the lot towards the lockers, her eyes always on the prowl.

Now, a hitman/woman who is staying in any one place for any length of time, starts to hide weapons like a squirrel stashes nuts. Plenty of them, all over. Locker number 17 registered to J. Padalecki at Big Joey's Storage was one of JayJ's bigger nut stashes.

Looking over her shoulder, JayJ fished out her key and popped the lock, then stood to the side and pulled out her penlight and revolver before throwing up the door. A quick sweep of the interior with the gun and light showed that the locker was empty of human life. That was as expected, but it never paid to go around too cocky. Slipping the Magnum back in her waistband, JayJ took the penlight in her mouth and grabbed an empty army surplus duffle bag from the top of a cardboard box. Moving quickly and quietly, she proceeded to fill it with all the delicious goodies of her trade.

* * *

It was two a.m. when JayJ pulled up outside the Comfort Inn. She put the green Ford Explorer in park, killed the engine and jumped out, heading for Jordan's room. She'd followed him here earlier that day, after brunch and before grocery shopping. Then, of course, her second order of business after visiting the locker had been to stash the Mustang in a long-term parking garage and hot-wire another vehicle from a different level. She pulled the purple hood of her jacket down to cover her face from casual observers and swung the goodie-loaded duffle over her shoulder. When she got to Jordan's door, she reached out and knocked. Twice.

She heard shuffling inside after the second knock, but it took Jordan two full minutes before he opened the door and stood there looking at her, dressed in a tank top and pajama bottoms, his hair a rumpled mess and a look of sleepy confusion on his handsome boyish face.

"Jayden?" He asked, gruffly, stifling a yawn.

"Hi." She said, and shouldered her way inside. She dropped her duffle bag on the bed with a metallic clink while Jordan shut and locked the door, then continued to scope out the room, checking the bathroom and closet with her trusted Magnum held nonchalantly at her side. Once she was convinced she and Jordan were the only two in the room, she put the gun back in its usual spot and turned to meet his bleary-eyed scrutiny.

"Alright," she said, with a predatory glint in her eye. "I'm in."

* * *

_**Next chapter goes up after ten reviews!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_Just a little farther, a little farther. Run. Escape._

_Jayden burst through the trees with a wave of relief as she glimpsed the wall. There. Freedom is there, is close. Within sight, within reach.. Just a little farther now. Run._

_She heard Jordan as he crashed through the trees just behind her, but she didn't slow down or turn to look, fear of the men and dogs chasing them kept her running. She reached the base of the ten foot high stone wall and flung herself up, scrabbling for purchase with her fingers and toes until her nails broke and her hands and feet bled. Freedom is on the other side, freedom and safety. _

_She clawed her way up by sheer willpower, feeling the barbed wire at the top snag on her nightgown and bite into her flesh as she wriggled underneath it. Laying herself flat along the top of the wall, she turned and reached down the side she had just climbed up. _

_"Here, Jordan!" She called breathlessly, extending her hand. Jordan had just reached the base of the wall, and looked up. He saw her outstretched hand, but it was still too far to reach. He studied the wall for a moment, and began to search for hand- and foot-holds. The sounds of the men and dogs crashing through the trees was getting louder now, closer. Jayden's heart thudded in her chest against the cold stone of the wall. _

_"Jordan, hurry! Please!" She cried, and reached her hand a little farther towards him. He had only climbed two feet up, but the dogs were already coming through the trees just yards away. He looked up at her. _

_"Go on." He said. But she shook her head. Fear and panic were in her eyes, but she reached her hand down farther. _Jump,_ she mouthed. And he did. With all his strength he shoved off from the wall and reached up towards her. For one moment, his hand was safely in hers. And then it wasn't._

_Jayden screamed as he fell, but it was a silent scream, her lungs not having enough air in them to make the sound. So there was silence as Jordan fell, and then the jarring thud of impact, and a horrifying crack. For one second Jayden looked down at his body, leg broken and neck bent at an unnatural angle, and she knew he was dead. _

_For one second she looked. And then she turned around, and ran. _

* * *

JayJ came awake with a jolt, shaking away the cobwebs of the familiar nightmare from her brain as she sat up. Blinking and looking around, she took stock of her surroundings, letting the events of the night come back to her in their own time. Light streamed through the curtains of the motel window. The weak, pale light of early morning.

Someone shifted on the bed beside her, and for just a split half-second, she thought it was Bobby, and turned towards him. Looking for the comfort that he had so often provided after similar reruns of that same dream. But the man in the bed beside her was the boy from her nightmare. No longer broken and bent, but curled soundly atop the covers and sleeping peacefully. She reached one hand out tentatively and touched his bare arm, afraid the image would fade and she'd wake up screaming like so many times before.

Jordan shifted under her touch, and JayJ snatched her hand away quickly, fear shaking all vestiges of sleep from her brain. Her heart thudded in her chest for a moment as Jordan settled back to sleep, and then she eased herself out from under the covers and stood. She looked around the room, and saw the weapons on the desk by the empty beer bottles and surveillance photos that she and Jordan had been studying the night before. She must have nodded off at some point, and Jordan had tucked her in.

She brushed her hair from her face, and rubbed a hand across her eyes. Her shoes were on the floor by the bed, but other than that she was fully clothed. Obviously nothing horridly inappropriate had happened between them the night before, but guilt sunk like stone in the pit of JayJ's stomach. She'd left Bobby; worse, picked a fight with him, _then_ left him, and spent the night in bed with another man. Even if they hadn't done anything, the principle of the matter stung. And what had Bobby done to deserve this treatment? Nothing.

But love her.

JayJ pinched the bridge of her nose and blew out a long breath. Beating herself up right now was pointless. Angst later. There was a job to do now. Bending down, she grabbed her shoes, and headed for the door.

* * *

By the time JayJ came back to the motel room with coffee and bagels, Jordan was just getting out of the shower.

"Hi," he said, sheepishly, and moved to grab his clothing, wrapping a towel quickly around his waist. JayJ ran a fast glance over his glistening half-naked body, then turned her eyes away and began setting out breakfast on the table under the window.

"Good morning." She said, and locked the door. One last twitch of the curtains to be sure no one was looking in, and she settled down in a chair with her coffee. She picked up one of the 8x10 glossy surveillance pictures and studied it while she sipped. Jordan, freshly clothed in jeans and a Tshirt, grabbed the seat beside her and picked up a bagel.

The man in the picture was in his thirties, caucasian, with glasses and a badly receding hairline. He was wearing a nondescript black suit and blue-striped tie, and was glancing nervously over his shoulder while he got into his car. He knew he was being watched. Good.

"I didn't know if you were coming back."

JayJ glanced up from the picture and raised her eyebrow. Jordan swallowed.

"This morning, when I woke up, you were gone." He explained. JayJ's mouth twitched in a half-smile.

"I left my guns." She said. Jordan grinned. JayJ tossed the picture down on the table between them, and tapped the man's face. "So, lets run through this again. This guy is?"

Jordan glanced down. "Brother Joseph Allred." JayJ nodded.

"And we want him because?"

"My source says he knows where Lyle is going to be." Jordan took another sip of coffee, and set the cup down. "He's one of the 'trusted few' or whatever."

"Right." JayJ said, and dropped her voice just a note lower. "And why do _you_ want Lyle dead, Jordan?"

It was Jordan's turn to look up with one eyebrow raised, as though the answer to that should be painfully obvious. JayJ met his gaze with a level stare. So he spelled it out.

"You mean, besides all the lives he's ruined with his sadistic religous brainwashing? All the families he's ripped apart? Everything he did to you?" His voice softened with those last words, and the sympathetic look in his eye made JayJ turn away. He cleared his throat. "Besides all that, I want to collect the $100,000 reward from the FBI, split it with you, and start a new life."

JayJ picked up her cup of coffee, fingers trembling slightly. She took a sip, and set it back down steadily. "Alright," she said. "Let's go to texas."

* * *

JayJ sat outside in the parking lot in a blue Geo Metro, her binoculars trained on the door to Brother Allred's room at the classy Super 8 motel, ten miles outside of Temple. What was it with sleazy guys and cheap motel rooms? Like rats and basements. She shifted slightly in the passenger seat and stretched, keeping her muscles from seizing up, should she need to call upon them to move and move fast. Then she lifted her binoculars again, and aimed them back at the motel. People think the the life of a hired assassin is all gunfights and car chases. Well, if that's true, you're pretty damned poor at your job. The truth was, ninety per cent of a good hitman's time was spent waiting, watching, and stalking. A hunter looking for the perfect shot. In this profession, patience truly was your best virtue.

And it was not a virtue that Jordan shared. The door of the Geo Metro's drivers side creaked open, and the shocks protested audibly as Jordan folded himself back inside. Two hours and he'd already gone for three walks and two station runs. Empty bags of Doritoes and Gatorade bottles littered the back seat of the car. JayJ rolled her eyes. The real owner would be less than pleased. This is what happened when you took a civilian on a stakeout. Hopefully, 'Brother Allred' was a complete fucking idiot who couldn't spot a tail if it sprouted from his own backside.

Or, on the other hand, anybody who had been watching Jordan's behaviour would know immediately that this was amatuer hour. Probably kids stalking a cheating boyfriend for a prank. JayJ's mouth twitched up with her optimism. See? Silver Lining.

An audible sigh came from the seat beside her. JayJ pulled her head back from the binoculars and glanced over at the other side of the car, where Jordan was looking tortuously, pitiably, mind-numbingly bored. She felt a twinge of sympathy.

They had established an unofficial Code of Silence on the drive down, neither of them knowing exactly what to say to the other, two almost-complete strangers stuck in the same cars and motel rooms. They were different people now, and conversation was awkward. So they stuck to meaningless drivel, and the job. That got old fast.

But now she looked at his tousled hair and familiar face, and memories tugged at the back of her mind. Two children laughing and skipping rocks, building tree forts, six inches deep in mud with half a jar full of frogs and tadpoles to feed to the garter snake smuggled in and hidden in a five-gallon bucket in Jordan's basement.

JayJ snuck a more obvious glance at him, then licked her lips and bit down on a smile as she turned her face away. Jordan noticed her turn and grunted.

"What?"

"Nothing.."

"Yeah right." Jordan shifted to face her. "What?"

The smile couldn't be held down any longer, and JayJ broke into a grin and shook her head. "Nothing," she said, lifting the binoculars. "it's just, that look on your face? Its the same one you used to get in class when Sister Alice tried to explain fractions."

Jordan raised and eyebrow at her, and the ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth. "You mean, complete and utter uncomprehension?"

JayJ laughed. "More like complete boredom.. and torture."

Jordan snorted in disdain, then laughed. "Well it _was_." He looked around, still smiling a bit. "You're right, that is what this feels like." He paused to give her a meaningful, sidelong glance. "You were always better at fractions, too."

JayJ smiled and put the field glasses to her eyes again, looking back at their target. "It's called patience." She said. "You never had any."

Jordan chuckled. "True." He said, and watched her while she watched for Allred.

"I've missed you." He said. JayJ went still for a half-second, the husky sound of his voice shivering up her spine. How many times had she dreamt of hearing that? How many times had she woken screaming from the nightmare of his death, and lain awake crying the rest of the night?

How many times had she cursed the day she hadn't run away with him? Her heart jumped into her throat, and she swallowed it back, blinking. But, Bobby-

A shadow crossed her vision, and her hands went cold. She blinked again, adjusting the glasses. Allred stepped out of his room, eyes slanting around shiftily, then closed the door and stalked away.

Cursing, JayJ fought to disentangle herself from the neckstrap of the binoculars, and threw open the car door. Bewildered, Jordan opened his door and got out after her. JayJ stood, scanning the motel parking lot slowly. He spoke to her over the hood of the car.

"What is it?"

JayJ answered without looking at him.

"He's on the move." She said, excitement in her tone. Then she took off running across the asphalt. Jordan cursed under his breath, and followed.


	6. Chapter 6

From his seat behind the expensive mahogany desk in his father's study, Russel Jefferson held perfectly still and listened to the angelic voices of half a dozen singing young women as they floated to him from down the hall. A collection of religious hymns, and original songs by his brother, Lyle. Earlier it had been "We Thank Thee O God For A Prophet," and now came the familiar sweet strains of "He Shall Be Renewed".

And, God, how he hated the sound. The first, because they sang it for his beloved brother, their 'Prophet', Lyle- a lying snake of a man if ever he knew one. And the second because Lyle had written it; written it about their dear father while he was still alive- a false prophesy promising Leon Jefferson's miraculous return to youth and health at the age of 83. A vile lie that had raised the hopes and spirits of his family, and his entire congregation. A simple, idiotic congregation that had not only ignored the lies in the song, but continued to sing it even now, five years after his father's death, as if they still expected his bones to leap from the dust and dance to the tune. Russel's jaw clenched, and his teeth ground together.

And the straw that broke the camel's back, were the musical young women themselves. Half of them under the age of eighteen, singing their praises to their honored husband. Lyle. A man who professed to be God Himself, and who currently was on the run from the FBI; placed on the list of America's Most Wanted criminals for being exactly that. Their fifty-one year old husband.

Russel pinched the bridge of his nose, and leaned back in his chair with a great sigh. His darling brother. His father's favorite son. He wondered what Leon would have to say, if he could see the way Lyle had corrupted their peaceful religion. How he had taken over the faith and the minds of the people in a manner very similar to a Hitler-esque Reich, and twisted their sacred ordinances into a way to warm his bed with underage children. From coast to coast the public was calling for the blood of 'polygamists'. And, honestly?

He couldn't disagree.

Russel passed a hand over his face, his eyes feeling heavy and tired. He felt as though he had aged a century in the past five years, and this night would probably put him in his grave. With a bone-weary effort, he picked up the pen lying on his father's desk in front of him and put it to paper, and scrawlingly signed his own brother's death warrant.

* * *

JayJ ran only as far as the sidewalk, and then she slowed to a shuffling saunter, blending in with the rest of the foot traffic while she kept Allred in view. The most important part of tailing a person is being inconspicious. Which, again, nobody had thought to teach Jordan. He pulled up short beside her, huffing like a marathon runner and turning the heads of three of the four people around. JayJ swore under her breath and dragged him aside, her fingers digging bruises into his arm.

"Christ," she hissed, her blue eyes sparking up at him and her pink lips pressed into a tight line, "why don't you just yell his name? Do you want him to make us?"

Jordan blinked under the hostility, but before he could say anything JayJ had whirled away, pulling the hood of her hoodie (lime green, today) up over her head to shield her face and shoving her hands down deep in the pockets. That combined with the appropriate slouch and shuffle made her look exactly like the other teenagers hanging out outside the gas station up the road.

There were three, two boys and a bleach-blonde girl standing in a circle on the pavement, sharing a cigarette. The casual observer would assume that JayJ was headed to join them. But her eyes under her hoodie were glued to Allred.

Beside the gas station was a crusty video rental, an all-night pharmacy with an 'And Post Office' sign, and a closed pizza place. Dusk was just beginning to turn to dark, and Allred's gaze was shifty, constantly looking over his shoulder. JayJ didn't think he knew for certain he was being watched, but he had the haunted look of someone who expected the police to burst out of every darkened alleyway. That was unusual, she noted. Most of Lyle Jefferson's tried and true followers were one hundred per cent confident in their faith that they were doing God's work, and therefore above the law and protected. She saw Allred's lips moving slightly in a mumbled prayer, and wondered if Brother Joseph's faith was beginning to falter.

Allred ducked into the pharmacy, where JayJ couldn't immediately follow without looking suspicious. So she sauntered over to the base of a lightpost, and took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her hoodie's deep front pockets. She rested a heel on the concrete base of the streetlight, and leaned her back against the metal pole. The handgun in the waistband of her jeans pressed into the small of her back with a metallic bite, and she let the sensation reassure her.

Taking a Marlboro Lite from the pack with her teeth, she glanced through the dirty pharmacy windows. The place looked empty. Stuffing the cigarettes back in her pocket, she Flicked her Bic and raised the flickering flame to the tip of her smoke. She took a long drag, feeling the smoke burn her lungs and that first hit of nicotine in her blood. She closed her eyes and exhaled.

Smoking was a necessary evil, she told herself. On the job, there were many times when you needed an excuse to stand in one place for a while, scouting your target. Sometimes in rain, sleet or snow, especially in Detroit. Only a die-hard smoker would brave the elements for that- or a young hitwoman stalking her prey and using smoking as a convenient excuse. Still, she only ever lit up when she needed the cover, and she justified to herself that any health risks from the cigarettes were outweighed by the health risk of bullets, should her target spot her. She took another slow hit and exhaled, savoringly. She knew she needed to quit. That sweet nicotine rush was beginning to get addicting, and smoking was a dangerous habit for an assassin to have. Forensics had a field day over any dropped butts with DNA, or lingering smoke from a preferred brand.

But right now, it was a cover, lumping her in with the teenage-smoking group and making her inconspicuous. She took another drag and exhaled, glancing around her surroundings. She spotted Jordan across the street, doing his best to look innocuous with his cell phone in his hand. Just another kid texting while he leaned against his car, most likely waiting for his girlfriend to finish her smoke. Not great, she thought, but better.

The electronic ding-dong of the opening pharmacy door told her that Allred was on the move. She flicked a lazy glance his way and puffed out a column of smoke in his direction, typical bad-ass rebellious teen attitude. She smiled when he reacted the way she'd hoped, quickening his step past her and pointedly looking the other way. He had a large Manilla envelope in his right hand, clutched dearly. She shifted just slightly around the streetlight until she could watch him as he walked away. It would look suspicious if she took off after him immediately, she had to stay in place until she finished her cigarette. This was when working with a partner could have its advantages. She caught Jordan's eye from across the street, and lazily flicked her ashes in the direction Allred had gone. He took the hint.

Not able to break from the lightpost and follow them, JayJ followed Jordan's example and fished out her phone. She tapped to unlock the screen and quickly pulled up her text messaging app.

Her intention was to text Jordan, to tell him that Allred was probably headed back to the motel and she would catch up as soon as she could. But as soon as she opened the app, other messages popped onto the screen. Unread messages, from the other day in the diner. She remembered hitting the ignore button on Bobby right before Jordan walked in. There were none newer than that, the time stamps told her. Her finger hovered over the screen for a moment, and then she tapped the blinking icon.

_Get your ass home, _the first one said, and she heard Bobby's familiar furious tone in the words.

_NOW, _the next one demanded, impatiently. She scrolled down.

_Please, _it said, and she blinked. She hadn't realized that word was part of Bobby's vocabularly.

_I'm worried about you._

And then..

_I love you._

Her breathing hitched, and her throat constricted when she read the words. She blinked rapidly and stuffed the offending phone back deep into her pockets. She lifted her chin, looking up at the gathering dusk. A light rain was just starting to fall, and a drop landed on her pale pink cheek. She blew out a deep breath, and, flicking her unfinished cigarette away, stalked back the way she had come.

JayJ hunched her shoulders against the pattering rain, and pulled her hood down even lower. The precipitation had picked up its intensity, and showed no sign of stopping anytime soon. They were in for a downpour.

_I love you. _

She kept her feet moving in a steady rythm, and she savored the feeling of jolting impact as her sneaker hit the pavement, and the sensation rippled up her leg. She pushed into a jog.

_I love you,_ it said, and the image of the words would not leave her brain. It was the first time he'd said it. And she'd ignored it. She'd been sitting in a diner with another man, accepting the offer for a job she knew Bobby despised. And then she'd gone home. And she'd yelled at him. And she'd left him.

How many ways could one man be punished?

JayJ jogged around the corner, and saw Jordan back in the passenger seat of the Geo, peering out from behind the rain-streaked windows. She glanced up, and saw the light was on in Allred's room. Good. They would know when it went out, and he was in bed. As soon as the surrounding streets were suitably quiet, they could make their move.

It was time to get this job done.

* * *

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